


just like a distant star (i simply cannot hold)

by celaenos



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Holidays, Pre-Series, sibling feelings and cousin feelings and jfc some of this is dePRESsing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9002191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celaenos/pseuds/celaenos
Summary: Alex laughs and asks if they can open presents now, because she was tortured awake by being thrown into the snow, and it’s only fair. Jeremiah turns and winks at Kara, and it’s the first time since coming to Earth that she feels like maybe, she might belong here someday.(Or, baby Kara, and the Danvers, and a bunch of Christmases.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas! happy chanukah! whoops this is kinda sad? have some [mood music.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UkOKCWDJ4iA)

_This is my winter song._  
_December never felt so wrong,_  
_cause you're not where you belong;_  
_inside my arms._

 

Kara fidgets with her glasses. They still feel odd, and she forgets that they’re on her face half of the time; she’s gone through four pairs since Jeremiah gave her the first ones. Apologizing profusely each time as she holds out the crushed remains in her hands, tears in her eyes. Jeremiah never once scolds her for being clumsy, for not knowing the limits to her own strength anymore. He bends down, a soft smile on his face and taps her nose. “I bought at least twenty pairs, just in case,” he says. “No big deal.”

Kara relaxes.

Christmas is Jeremiah’s favorite holiday. Eliza is Jewish, and she doesn’t care overmuch about the holidays beyond the fact that everyone is together, not fighting, and the house doesn’t burn down.

“She lets him go nuts,” Alex whispers to Kara as they watch Jeremiah string up even _more_ garland along the staircase. “It’s his one thing. They have this pact,” Alex explains as she leans against the kitchen wall, unable to stop the grin on her face as Jeremiah slips a bit on some tinsel and calls out, _I’m fine!_ before nearly doing a face plant. “He gets to decorate as much as he wants, go crazy with presents, food, movies, caroling, the works,” she points to the state of the living room. “And Mom will go along with it. And then _she_ gets free reign on Rosh Hashanah. Cause when they were kids, my mom and her sisters all got to pick whatever they wanted to do on the Jewish New Year,” Alex rolls her eyes. “It’s always some science thing for two days straight. Usually cool though,” Alex admits. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, neither of them are religious. But Christmas was like the one time of year that Grandpa and Grams didn’t fight, so it’s important to Dad. And Nana and Papa are really into new beginnings, and cycles, and shit like that. They go all out on regular New Year’s too,” Alex raises her eyebrows and sighs as Jeremiah trips again, calling out for help this time. “Welcome to the family I guess,” she shrugs and goes to help her dad, leaving Kara standing alone in the middle of the kitchen, messing with her glasses.

…

…

It never snowed in Argo City. There was only one part of Krypton that Kara knows of that was cold enough for such weather, and she never traveled there. So, the first time that she ever sees snow is in Midvale.

She’s been an early riser since waking up in her pod. Restless, she has trouble sleeping for weeks and weeks. Eliza makes her different teas, and puts something that she calls a diffuser in her room, switching out different oils every few days to try and help. But Kara still wakes in deep sweats, screaming for her mother, the image Krypton burning just before she fell asleep etched forever in her memory.

Alex hates her. She groans and rolls over, telling Kara to _go back to sleep, god it’s 3am,_ when the nightmares aren’t as bad. When they are, when Kara shakes so hard that she can’t breathe, every sound and smell too strong on this planet, Alex climbs out of her bed and into Kara’s. Her arms wrap tightly around Kara’s middle, squeezing as hard as she can (it doesn’t hurt) to ground her. To force Kara into the present. She always waits until Kara’s breathing evens out, wiping the sweat off Kara’s forehead and putting a new oil in the diffuser. Sometimes, they fall asleep together in Kara’s bed, Alex’s strong arms wrapped around her until morning.

Kara wakes up alone this morning, before sunrise, and glances out the window. The entire ground is covered in white. She gasps, turning back to ask Alex what’s going on before clamping a hand over her mouth. If she wakes Alex up this early, she’ll be furious and grumpy all day long. Instead, Kara pushes the window open and climbs out onto the roof. She slips, nearly falling off before she catches herself and floats, hovering above the silent morning. It’s still snowing lightly, and Kara laughs as it wets her hair.

“Kara, close the window! It’s _freezing_ ,” Alex hisses from inside their bedroom twenty minutes later.

“Sorry,” Kara quickly climbs back inside, slamming the window shut with too much force. She winces as cracks appear in the glass. “Whoops.”

“Oh my god, you are _such_ a freak,” Alex groans. She sits up, clawing for a sweatshirt and pauses at the look on Kara’s face. “Shit, sorry,” she mumbles. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just not really awake yet.”

“It’s okay,” Kara shrugs, not looking at Alex. She can tell, that it’s no easier for Alex to have Kara be here than it feels for Kara to be here. They’re both floundering.

“Is it snowing?” Alex asks a beat later, trying to make conversation.

“Is that what it’s called?” Kara looks back to the cracked window. “It’s wet. Like rain, but not.”

“Yeah,” Alex stares at her oddly. “It doesn’t snow on your planet?”

Kara shrugs. “Not where I live,” she swallows thickly. “Lived,” she corrects.

Alex inhales sharply, then stands up, sticking out her hand. “Come on, I’ll show you how to make a snowman after we get something to eat.”

Kara smiles, and slips her hand Alex’s own. It’s warm. Alex squeezes once, and then they tip-toe downstairs together.  

…

…

Kal finds her in the summer. Late July. It’s disorienting, to stand there and listen to him stutter and try to explain, their families crest emblazoned across his broad chest. He’s a man. Kara blinks and listens to _pod went off course, twenty-four years in stasis,_ and doesn’t know what to say. This planet is _loud,_ and bright, and Kara’s skin feels like it’s being pulled too tight across her muscles. Her baby cousin isn’t a baby anymore, and his hand feels too big wrapped with hers.

Kara sits in a kitchen in Kansas and two humans stare at her and whisper with Kal about what to do. Kara’s head hurts, and she flinches when Martha Kent tries to give her a hug. There’s a ringing noise, blasting out and causing Kara to double over and cover her ears as Kal leaps for a tiny block in his pocket.

“Sorry Lois, hang on,” he says and moves into a different room. Martha stands beside Kara, making shushing noises and looking pained. Kara wants to go home. She wants her mother.

She doesn’t understand when Kal flies her across the country to Midvale. They stop at a different old farmhouse and Kal’s hand shakes in her own. Kara squeezes it on instinct. “It’s okay,” she finds herself saying. But Kal isn’t a baby who needs reassurance anymore, Kara is the only child here now, and when Kal smiles down at her, his face is wracked with guilt that Kara doesn’t understand until twenty minutes later, when Eliza Danvers places her hands gently on Kara’s shoulders and Kal flies away, leaving her alone.

Kal visits twice from the day that he leaves Kara with the Danvers, to the day that he asks if they’d like to spend Christmas Eve with the Kents. He’s not in his suit when he visits this time—Metropolis is only forty-five minutes away by train—and Kara doesn’t know what to make of him this way. She knows more about Superman, the myth, than Kal, the man. Her family’s crest is everywhere, on t-shirts, toys, backpacks, and all over the internet. Alex tells Kara not to tell anyone who Kal is at school. To protect his identity, along with her own.

It’s harder than it sounds. Children say things about Superman, about Krypton, about _her family’s_ symbol that are _wrong_ and ignorant, and Kara has to bite down on her tongue to stop herself from screaming sometimes.

Kal doesn’t meet Kara’s eye very often. The Danvers shuffle inside the Kent farmhouse and Martha hugs each and every one of them, a bright smile on her face. Jonathan makes terrible jokes and Kal rolls his eyes, and Alex fidgets with the edge of her skirt after Lois tells her it looks nice, her face red for the next ten minutes. Kara sits quietly on the couch, across from Kal and watches him. He fits here, in this small living room with these humans, decked out in a garish red and green sweater, Lois messing with his hair. Kara feels every stitch of wool in the sweater that Martha has knitted for her, and it takes all of her self control not to tug at it constantly throughout the evening.

Jeremiah and Martha are belting out carols by the piano, and Eliza and Jonathan are deep in some discussion that Kara’s tuned out of. Kal, Lois, Alex, and Kara are making hot chocolate in the kitchen. Lois constantly teases Kal, poking at his sides and winking exaggeratedly at Alex and Kara behind his back. Alex’s heart rate keeps going up every time that Lois smiles at her, and Kara watches her with confusion, but doesn’t say anything. Lois is beautiful, and kind, and she loves Kal _so much_ and a little bit of Kara hates her for it.

Kal is focused on Lois, so attuned to her, that he barely pays anyone else in the room any mind. Kara can tell that he isn’t doing it on purpose, but each time that he avoids her eye, it stings just a little bit more. Lois, being so kind, so focused on Kara—and Alex—only grates Kara further, because she wants that from _Kal._ He’s her only family left, her only tangible connection to Krypton, and he won’t look at her.

“Hey kiddo,” Lois waves her hand in front of Kara’s face, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, did you hear me?”

“No. I’m sorry,” Kara sits on a stool at the Kent’s kitchen counter, Lois leaning over towards her. Alex is helping Kal pour out hot chocolate into individual cups.

“No big,” Lois shrugs. “Just wanted to know if you like cinnamon in yours?”

“I – I don’t know,” Kara looks to Alex for help. Lois and Kal both share a look over their heads that Kara can’t decipher.

“It’s good,” Alex finally says, and dumps some into both of their mugs. “You’ll like it.”

“Gimmie a shot of that too Danvers,” Lois says, turning around and leaning back against the counter on her elbows. Alex’s cheeks flame red, and she shakes some cinnamon into Lois’ mug. Too much. Alex sputters and apologizes and Kal gently scoops it out for her.

“No harm done,” he insists, winking at Alex. Kara scowls down into her mug.

“Come sing with us,” Jeremiah calls out. “Alex!”

Alex rolls her eyes, but Kara can see the smile etching out onto her face, and hears the way her heartbeat speeds up momentarily. She and Lois walk into the foyer with mugs of hot chocolate in their hands, and Kara hears their voices blend together a moment later, laughing.

She’s finally left alone with Kal.

He fidgets with the mug in his hands, smooths at his hair, and finally meets Kara’s eye. “So, Christmas is fun, yeah?”

Kara shrugs. “We don’t celebrate it on Krypton.”

“Oh,” Kal blinks. “But… you can celebrate it now?” he smiles, and Kara can see the uncomfortable tick in the corner of his mouth. The way that he can only hold her gaze for a few seconds before looking away; at her shoulder, over her head, anywhere but her face. “It’s a fun holiday,” he insists. “Great food. Time for family. I think you’ll love it.”

Kara stares at him until Kal finally holds her gaze for more than a few seconds. “I suppose,” she finally says, not much feeling to it.

Kal can’t meet her gaze again for the rest of the night. Kara feels an odd sort of vindication in it this time.

Kara obediently sings along to some of the carols with Alex and Jeremiah. She smiles, and thanks Lois for her present, (a beautifully decorated notebook) thanks the Kents for the food and their hospitality, and then she falls asleep with her head against Jeremiah’s shoulder on the couch.

She wakes up in his arms, as he carries Kara back into the house from the car, but she pretends to still be sleeping until they’re in the living room. All the lights are off in the house, save the ones on the Christmas tree, and Kara smiles at the sight. It reminds her of a holiday on Krypton, lights and pine, to celebrate and ward off the long dark nights ahead.

“Hey kiddo,” Jeremiah whispers, noticing that she’s awake.

“Hi,” Kara waits for him to put her down, but he doesn’t. He holds her loosely, letting her decide if she wants to be held or not. Usually, she doesn’t, but right now, Jeremiah’s heartbeat is strong and calming against her ear, and Kara curls into him. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“For what?”

“I don’t really think I like Christmas,” she says through tears. “And it’s your favorite.”

Jeremiah sits down on the floor, beside the tree, Kara in his lap. He cups her face gently and smiles at her. “It’s okay if you don’t like it right now,” he assures her. “It’s okay if you never like it. And it’s okay if you change your mind. Just because it’s my favorite, doesn’t mean that it has to be yours. But, I want you to do me a favor,” he asks.

“What?”

“You might feel differently about it next year, when everything isn’t so new and overwhelming. So, don’t write it off just yet?”

Kara lets out a long sigh and looks up at the lights on the tree. Jeremiah’s arms around her are warm and gentle, and this is the most relaxed she’s felt all night. “Okay,” she agrees, and rests her head against his chest. “But I don’t want to go back to the Kent’s next year.”

Kara can tell from his heartbeat, and the way his body shifts that he’s surprised by this, but he doesn’t show it in his voice. “Alright,” he says. “We don’t have to go again.”

Kara falls asleep in his arms again, and when she wakes up, they’ve moved to the couch. Kara is tucked tightly between the back of the couch and Jeremiah, and Alex is sprawled out on top of her father, one arm slung over Kara. The light is peaking through the windows, but it’s still dark enough that the lights from the tree are the brightest thing in the room. Two minutes later, Jeremiah starts poking at both girls’ sides.

“It’s Christmas,” he whispers, over and over again. “Look, Santa came.”

Alex groans and twists her face away from him, knocking into Kara’s shoulder. “Santa’s not real.”

 _“What?”_ Jeremiah gasps. “He’s _not?_ ” He lifts his head up and shouts. “Eliza! Did you know that Santa’s not real?”

“You’re so dumb,” Alex grumbles.

“How dare you,” Jeremiah yells, and then he jumps off the couch, pulling Alex with him and flinging her over his shoulder. She screams. Jeremiah reaches down and hauls Kara up too, holding her up like a football, and he runs outside with them both. Alex screeches to be put down, screams for Eliza to come save her, and then Jeremiah unceremoniously drops them both into a pile of snow. Kara has never heard Alex scream so loudly. She scrambles to get up, but Jeremiah throws a ball of snow at her, grinning madly.

“Jeremiah,” Eliza yells from the front door. “They don’t have coats on!”

“I’m not cold,” Kara declares as she crouches up on her knees.

“Good for you,” Alex says, and pelts her in the face with a snowball. Kara gasps, not from the cold, but just from the shock of wetness. When she wipes it off, Alex is grinning at her, shivering. Kara grabs some snow and flings it at her, and Alex yelps with delight. “No!” she screams, “help me get Dad!”

They both throw snow at Jeremiah until he and Alex are both shivering too hard. Eliza pulls them inside and covers them with blankets, making them sit in front of the fire while she makes pancakes. Kara isn’t shivering like Alex and Jeremiah, but she sits beside them with a blanket around her anyway. Eliza lets everyone eat pancakes on the floor, and she rolls her eyes when Jeremiah shakes more snow out of his pants and kisses her. Alex laughs and asks if they can open presents now, because she was tortured awake by being thrown into the snow, and it’s only fair. Jeremiah turns and winks at Kara, and it’s the first time since coming to Earth that she feels like maybe, she might belong here someday.

…

…

“Are we getting a tree?” Kara asks quietly. Eliza and Alex are both staring at the spot in the living room where a tree resided the last two years that Kara has been living here.

“No,” Alex croaks, leaving no room for argument. Kara reaches out for her hand, but Alex pulls it away and stalks upstairs.

Eliza’s arm wraps gently around Kara’s shoulder, and she presses a kiss to her temple. Kara can feel the tears she’s trying to hide. “Maybe next year sweetie,” she whispers.

Eliza makes pancakes on Christmas morning, but Alex won’t eat them. They open their presents halfheartedly, then all drift to separate corners of the house for the remainder of the day. When Kal—Clark, he likes to be called Clark—calls to wish her a Merry Christmas, Kara thanks him for his present, and the two of them spend a strained five minutes trying to make conversation until Alex grabs the phone and hangs up on him.

“Come on,” she orders. “I have to get out of this fucking house.”

It’s dark already, because of course it is, and Eliza is staring into her mug of tea in the living room. She doesn’t notice the girls bundling up and sneaking outside. Alex jams her hands into her pockets and walks down the street with purpose. Unsure of where they’re going, Kara follows along in silence. She can smell the alcohol on Alex, and her eyes are red and glassy, but Kara doesn’t say anything about it, and neither does Alex.

Halfway to town, Alex slips and Kara jumps to catch her, and then, Alex is sobbing in her arms. She clings to Kara, tighter than she ever has before as sobs wreck through her body. Kara holds her steadily and sucks back her own tears, her throat stings from holding them in. They stand there until Alex is shivering too hard. No one is around, and even though she’s not supposed to, Kara lifts Alex up and flies them to main street.

“Kara!” Alex yells, smacking her in the chest. “What if someone saw?”

“You’re too cold,” Kara protests. “I was just trying—”

“Don’t,” Alex snaps. “He’s…” her voice shakes. “He’s _dead_ Kara. And he—” she clings to Kara again, wrapping her arms around Kara’s neck and pulling her in close. “I can’t lose you too,” she whispers. “Promise,” she demands.

“Okay,” Kara pushes Alex towards the local coffee shop. “I promise.”

Alex stares down at her a beat longer, then they shuffle inside. The owner knows them—knew Jeremiah—and gives them two hot chocolates on the house, topped with more whipped cream and candy canes than can fit in their mugs. Alex’s eyes aren’t as glassy now, but Kara still does most of the talking. She still keeps a steady hand on Alex’s elbow, and makes sure that no one else can smell her breath.

By the time they sneak back inside the house, a few hours later, Eliza is still sitting in the living room, her tea long gone cold, sound asleep. Alex covers her with a blanket, and the two of them wordlessly go upstairs and crawl into Alex’s bed together. Kara clings to Alex and aches for her parents, all three of them.

…

…

Clark looks deeply out of place in her living room.

Kara watches as he and Lois help Alex decorate the tree. It’s Alex’s first winter break home from college, and Kara misses her even more than she thought that she would. It’s incredibly weird, just her and Eliza living in the house, day in and day out. Neither of them like it.

Lois says something, and hip checks Alex, laughing at the deep blush that fills Alex’s cheeks. She hisses something like _shut up,_ and nods towards Clark. He holds up his hands in surrender and walks away.

“I heard nothing,” he claims, and moves over to sit beside Kara. “Hey,” he knocks his shoulder into hers lightly. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Kara states, because, all things considered, it’s generally true. “You?”

Clark nods. “I’m doing well,” he fidgets with his glasses, and unconsciously, Kara mimics the motion with her own. They both laugh once they realize what they’re doing. “I wanted to give you your present a little early this year, if that’s okay.”

“Right now?”

Clark nods. “Lois will keep Eliza and Alex entertained for a few hours.”

Kara’s eyebrows go up. “Where are we going?”

Clark holds out his hand. “You’ll see,” he grins. A few seconds later, he’s in his suit and he lifts Kara up into his arms. “Gotta maintain the illusion,” he jokes, and then, they’re flying.

It’s odd, to be carried like this when Kara knows that she could fly right alongside Clark if she wanted to. Just before they land, Kara knows exactly where he’s taken her and she sucks in a breath. “The Fortress of Solitude?” she asks, gaping up at it. Clark nods, looking nervous as he sets Kara down and places his hand on the lock.

“Your hand will work too,” he says. “It’s bound by our blood.”

He’s never taken her here before. She’s never asked, though part of her has wanted to see this place for a long time. Kara swallows thickly as they step inside. Her eyes take in everything as quickly as possible. And when Kalex jumps out and asks how it can assist them, Kara chokes back a sob.

“I’m—” she steps away from it, knocking into Clark. “Sorry,” she says, trying to stave off her tears. “I just…”

“I’m sorry,” Clark says. “I thought… we don’t have to be here. We can go if you want. I thought—”

“No,” Kara insists. “I want to stay. It’s just… a lot.” Clark nods, and steps back, giving Kara a moment to catch her breath. It takes longer than she’d like, but then she’s exploring a bit. She stops at a holo image of Lara and Jor-El, and turns to Clark. He smiles softly at it. “Do you – do you want to know anything about them?” she asks. It’s always surprised her, that he hasn’t asked her much before. She’s been on Earth for over four years now, and Clark’s only asked her the barest of things about Krypton.  

“I—” Clark’s eyes drop away from the holo and Kara hears his heartbeat momentarily speed up. “Okay,” he says, far too quietly. “That’d be nice.”

Kara sucks in a breath, and then the words are spilling out of her so quickly that she doubts they’re coherent. There is too much built up, four years of things she hasn’t said out loud for fear that the pain from them would knock her over. And it does. Kara slumps down to the ground and Clark is right beside her, crying and gripping her hand. She tells him about the day that he was born. How Kara’s mother had to shove his father down into a chair to stop him from pacing a hole into the ground. How Aunt Lara had never looked happier, holding Kal in her arms and crying as everyone tucked in around the bed. She tells Clark about the way Aunt Lara would sing to him, terribly off-key, laughing while he wailed at her in protest until she’d give up and beg Alura and Astra to sing to him instead. Their voices mixing together in the most perfect harmony that Kara’s ever heard, still. She tells him about the days she went with Aunt Lara to take Kal for walks after her lessons, anything to get the fussy baby to drift off to sleep. And, she means to stick as much to Lara and Jor-El as possible, but she shifts, and then she’s talking about her parents, and Astra, and she can’t breathe.

Clark pulls her into his lap and holds her tightly. Kara’s body shakes and she clings to him. It might only be the second time that he’s ever given her a hug. She hears him apologizing, over and over until it blurs and loses its meaning. Kara allows herself to feel the pain of losing Krypton for the first time in a very long while. An entire planet dead and gone. Entire families, erased from the sky, mothers, children, jerks, scientists, cooks, thousand-year-old trees and rivers, a whole plethora of knowledge and life, reduced to nothing but the flimsy memories that Kara can hold inside of her head. She makes a sound, inarticulate and feral, and Clark’s arms around her tighten even further.

They sit there in the snow together until Kara can breathe again. Clark never once loosens his grip, clinging to her with a ferocity that no one on this planet but the two of them can manage.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against her temple. “I – I should have asked earlier. I should have kept—” he inhales wetly, and can’t seem to form the words. “I was scared,” he admits. “I’m so sorry Kara.”

She understands what he’s trying to say. At least, she thinks that she does. It doesn’t really make things any easier, but it does make her choose to finally stop being angry with him. It takes far too much work, and Kara doesn’t want to lose anyone else. She needs him.

She doesn’t say that it’s okay, because it isn’t. He was her only family, and he gave her away and then all but disappeared. But she pulls back enough for him to see her face, and she manages a smile. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to stay longer?”

Kara looks around. There is still a lot that she hasn’t had time to explore, but today already feels weighted enough, and Kara misses Alex. Clark isn’t just showing her The Fortress today; the present is that it’s hers now too.

She shakes her head. “No, I think I want to go home now. Leaving Lois as a buffer between Alex and Eliza isn’t fair much longer,” she jokes.

Clark takes her hand and hauls her up to her feet. He doesn’t let go. Not while they fly home, and not while they step back into the living room to see the tree, fully decorated and find Lois and Alex having a contest to see who can catch more popcorn in their mouths.

“Hey,” Lois says as she catches sight of them. “Just where did you take that teenage girl to for the last three hours? Eliza left me in charge. She better be all in one piece.” she waggles her finger at him and then laughs.

Alex catches Kara’s eye and points towards the mug residing on the foot table. _Eggnog,_ she mouths. _Lots of it._ Kara giggles and moves over to perch on the arm of the couch beside her. “Mom went to get more coffee and eggs. We ran out,” Alex explains. “She thought you guys were upstairs,” she raises an eyebrow at Kara, looking a little concerned. Kara wonders how red her eyes still are. It wouldn’t matter anyway; Alex can always tell when she’s upset.

Kara drops her body down on top of Alex, causing her to yell and Lois to laugh. “Clark had to take me to my present,” she rolls her body back and forth and Alex grunts, pinching at her stomach. “At least we didn’t get drunk and make a huge mess!”

“I, am not drunk,” Lois declares. Everyone looks at her dubiously. “I might be a _little_ bit drunk,” she amends. “But that one is nineteen now!” she jams her finger towards Alex, still frowning and trying to get out from underneath Kara. “The teen part is almost gone! She’s the one that I was mostly in charge of, and look at her,” Lois beams. “She’s _great._ All in one piece, and not drunk, and beautiful, and everything. I did a great job!”

Kara can’t see from this angle, but she knows that Alex is blushing. She always blushes at complements. Especially ones from Lois. Kara wriggles her body, pushing Alex further into the couch. Alex retaliates by pinching her again.

“Yours,” Lois rounds on Clark. “Looks like she’s been crying,” she accuses. Kara stills. She feels Alex’s arms snake around her middle. “What did you do to the little one?”

“I’m sixteen,” Kara informs her. “And I’m taller than Alex now.”

“Only by like, an inch,” Alex protests.

“Two at least,” Kara says.

Lois squints at them both. “Stand up,” she demands. “Back to back.”

Kara pops up obediently and turns around, happy for the distraction from explaining what she and Clark were doing for now. Alex takes considerably longer. Lois’ squint deepens, then she tilts her head from one side, to the other. Clark leans against the back of the couch and rolls his eyes. “Kara’s taller,” he says.

“That’s already been established Smallville, keep up.” Lois tilts her head each way one more time, then she grins. “Kara’s at _least_ two inches taller Danvers One,” she apologizes. “Maybe even two and a half.”

“What! No way,” Alex turns around and glares at Kara, who beams back at her.

Lois shrugs and sips her eggnog. “I speak the truth, sorry.” The eggnog misses her mouth, and spills all down the front of her shirt just as Eliza walks through the front door. “Oh, shit.”

Eliza stares at them all; Kara and Alex giggling, Lois frowning at herself, and Clark, fumbling around and trying to clean up the mess, and she sighs deeply. “I’m declaring myself too Jewish to deal with this,” she says, and waltzes into the kitchen. “I got potstickers,” she calls over her shoulder.

“Yes!” Kara cheers, and bolts after her, grabbing the box and kissing Eliza on the cheek. “Christmas miracle!”

“Eliza miracle,” she corrects with a smile.

“Even better,” Kara says, mouth full of three potstickers already.

…

…

Alex sips her wine angrily.

Kara slinks further down into her seat and avoids looking at Alex or Eliza. Her winter break started later than Alex’s did, and the four days that the two of them have been home without Kara clearly, haven’t been going very well.

“Maybe we should—”

“Alexandra,” Eliza says as a warning, cutting Kara off.

“I’m twenty-one Mother,” Alex snarks, sounding anything but. “In fact, I’m almost twenty-two.”

“Maybe—”

“And I can drink as much wine as I want to,” she glares at Eliza. “It’s a free country. And it’s a holiday.”

“It’s December 23rd,” Kara mumbles. “Today isn’t technically a holiday.”

Alex glares at her now. Great.

“The tree isn’t decorated,” Eliza states, looking over at it. It’s small. It gets smaller every year. Kara and Eliza both look at Alex simultaneously. She chugs the rest of her wine and goes upstairs.

“I’ll help,” Kara offers.

Eliza smiles at her, then nods. The two of them get up and drag the box full of ornaments out in silence. “How did your finals go?” Eliza asks, passing Kara a cardboard, gray-painted (macaroni-less, now) bell with Alex’s second grade picture on it. Kara hangs it up front and center.

“Okay I think,” she shrugs. School isn’t easy for her the that way it is for Alex. She’s had a 4.0 all her life. Kara works as hard as she possibly can, and she’s maybe got a 3.4, if she’s being generous. “I like my journalism class a lot. I’m glad that Lois convinced me to take it.”

Eliza smiles, draping a string of lights around the bottom of the tree. “Biology not so much?”

Kara grimaces. “Sorry, I think you’re only gonna get one scientist daughter.”

Eliza passes Kara another string of lights, and she hovers in the air to wrap it around the tree, just because she can. Eliza doesn’t scold her, instead she smiles and when Kara floats back down, and wraps an arm around her middle and kisses her cheek. “Fine with me,” she says. “As long as you girls are happy; I don’t care what you do.”

“Baring like, we don’t become serial killers or something though, right?”

Eliza swats at Kara’s bottom and points her towards the box of ornaments. “You will definitely be grounded for life if you become a serial killer Kara Danvers,” she says, trying very hard to appear stern. “I won’t tolerate it.” Her hands go to her hips and she attempts a glare, but she just laughs through it, Kara along with her.

“I wouldn’t worry. I don’t think that being a serial killer would make me very happy. Probably, it would have the opposite effect.” Kara pulls out Jeremiah’s favorite ornament and hangs it on the tree with great care; an old ivory black Santa, mid laugh. There are also three Mrs. Claus’, of varying age ranges, a skinny Santa, an elephant Santa—Kara’s favorite—and two other black Santas. _Life’s got a lot more to offer than just old white men with glasses,_ he’d say. (While adjusting his glasses and winking.) _Christmas should represent that too._ Kara smiles as she hangs the elephant Santa ornament next to it.

“I should hope so,” Eliza whacks her in the face with some tinsel.

…

…

Kara wakes up to Alex sitting on top of her chest. “Why?” she groans, trying to roll away and tuck her face back into the pillow.

“Get up,” Alex orders. “I’ve decided that my present is that we’re going sledding.”

The weight on Kara disappears and she blinks over at Alex. She’s already got her old snow pants on. “What?” Kara grumbles. “That’s… not how presents work. Besides, I thought you said we’re too old for sledding,” she says, throwing Alex’s words from a few years ago back at her.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Alex rips the blanket off of Kara. She yelps and curls into a ball. “Get up,” she demands. “You have five minutes to be ready. I’m waking up Mom.”

“Eliza’s sledding too?”

“We all are. Merry fucking Christmas.”

Kara has a lot more questions, but instead of asking any of them, she gets out of bed and goes to find her old snow pants.

By the time that Kara is ready and waiting by the door, Alex has corralled Eliza into something resembling outdoor winter clothes. She looks just as confused and even less enthusiastic about their Christmas morning activities than Kara is. But, like Kara, she’s not complaining.

They trudge out into the snow, Kara _very_ carefully using her heat vision to warm Eliza’s mittens once they’re far enough out that no one else is around. Alex sets the sled down and gamely assesses the hill. She looks hilarious in her old coat, Jeremiah’s bright red hat falling a bit into her eyes. Kara throws a snowball at her head.

Which causes a quick fight to erupt, Eliza yelling at them both not to _dare_ hit her with anything, and then they’re both rolling around in the snow together. Alex is laughing, her face bright red, and Kara’s got snow down the back of her neck, and she hasn’t seen Alex smile this much on Christmas in _years_. She feels twelve years old again, rolling around in the snow with her big sister, Eliza yelling at the both of them to be careful. Jeremiah is missing; the one person in this family who truly cares about this holiday, and they still haven’t been able to figure out how to do it properly without him, five years later. But, this is the first Christmas morning that Kara has woken up on Earth and not felt heavy with missing her parents, with missing Jeremiah. She shoves a bit of snow directly into Alex’s face and laughs manically as Alex yelps and rolls away, crawling up and ducking behind Eliza for protection.

Eliza screeches at Kara to _not even think about it,_ trying to block Alex and herself at the same time, and Kara pelts them both, jumping up and down and declaring victory.

“No way,” Alex runs out from behind Eliza and tackles her.

“Eliza, can I throw her?”

 _“No,”_ Eliza yells, “you cannot _throw your sister!”_

“I mean, physically, I can,” Kara grins from underneath Alex’s arm.

“You do not have permission to,” Eliza states firmly. Then, after a beat in which Kara shrieks from the snow that Alex pushes into her coat, “I thought we came out here to go sledding.”

“We did,” Alex pushes Kara’s face into the snow, knowing it won’t give her frostbite. “We are. I win,” she jumps up and runs back over Eliza. “Do you want the front, back, or middle?”

Eliza looks down at the sled dubiously. “How about I just chaperone?”

“Eliza in the back, Alex in the middle, me in the front,” Kara decides, coming over to stand by them.

“The back has to push and then jump in,” Alex reminds her.

“Me in the back then,” Kara says. All three women nod. Kara holds the sled steady as Eliza carefully climbs in, Alex right behind her. Alex turns around and grins wickedly at Kara, Jeremiah’s hat a bit lopsided on her head. Kara reaches out and fixes it, beaming back at her. “Merry fucking Christmas,” she whispers. Eliza scolds her, and Alex’s grin is so bright that Kara’s heart feels too full, like she’s an empty glass, filling up.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” Alex agrees. Kara takes a running leap, jumps into the sled, and sends them all flying.


End file.
